Running to Stand Still
There was a time when my life was dedicated to music. Every spare minute was spent writing songs, singing, playing guitar and listening to music, either recorded or live. I went to at least one live gig a week, often more. I rubbed shoulders with an eclectic bunch of troubadours, some of whom have gone on to become international stars. Music pulsed through my veins. Lyrics framed my philosophies & my thinking.
For various reasons the amount of time I spent with music diminished over a period of time. When I first met my husband our musical tastes were polar opposites. While my passion was for singer-songwriter music based around meaningful lyrics and a tuneful melody, Arūnas was all about the beat and the base. He thought my music was boring and I thought his was noise. We both retreated to listening to music only when the other wasn’t around – there was no shared music.
As the years progressed our tastes converged and we gradually found our way back. He listens to his music in the gym and I listen to my music as I cook. We have found a radio station that suits us both. But I now have other priorities and interests and don’t dedicate vast chunks of time to music as I once did.
Right now I am exhausted. I’m totally and utterly exhausted in a way I haven’t experienced since I had glandular fever (mono) in my mid-teens. It’s like someone took my batteries out and I just went limp. It’s very peculiar for me because I am normally a bundle of energy. I’m also tenacious as bedamned, so even when I am a little tired I plough on regardless. For the last few weeks, though, I’ve really been struggling. I don’t know if I have a virus or if I just overdid the tenacity in the blazing August heat. But I’m beat.
The timing couldn’t be worse. I have TONS to do – tomatoes to can, cucumbers to pickle, zucchini to rescue from engorgement if left on the vine too long, onions to lift, caterpillars to remove, apples to pick, sweet peppers to roast and freeze, green beans to process, and so on and so on. Even writing the list makes me tired. I’m almost thankful that August has been dry and there are no mushrooms in the forests – otherwise that would be something else to add to the mix.
I’m struggling through it as best I can, trying to process at least a few veg each day to keep things chugging along. Come evening, though, and I can barely move my arms enough to type. The best I can do is sink into an easy chair and rest my weary bones. Maybe that’s what I need – a bit more rest. I’ll come round, I know – I always do.
And since I’m in this chair and can’t work, I might as well listen to some music. Some of the good stuff, with lyrics and a melody that reach into your soul, spark your fuse plugs and bring you back to life. Maybe these boys from the north side of Dublin might cheer me up. She’s running to stand still – just like me.